Kleinman's Eleven

0.3

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"Hey, Con! Connor! What's up, man?" Connor looked up from his food, following the man. "Let me ask you a question, man. Are you incorporated?"

Connor looked at the man and scoffed.

The man took that as an answer, "Okay, well, you should really think about it, 'cause I was talking to my manager last night-"

"Bernie." Connor interrupted, not looking at the man.

"No, not Bernie. My business manager." Connor continued walking and the man struggled to catch up, "Actually, you know what? They're both named Bernie. Anyway, he was telling me because of what we do can be considered, like, research. For, like, a future gig or whatever. I could totally make it a tax write-off. The one thing is, and this is just his thing, is that I'd have to pay you by check."

This got Connor's attention. He stopped and stared at the man, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What--" the man started, trying to figure out what was wrong with what he had proposed, "Or, we could just stick to cash." Connor turned away, starting to walk again, "Yeah, let's-- Yeah, let's stick to cash."

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Connor was sitting at the bar after another long game.

"How's the game goin'"

Connor put his drink down, "Longest hour of my life."

The bartender scrunched his eyebrows together, still smiling, "What?"

Connor realized the bartender wouldn't be able to hear him, anyways. "I'm running away with your wife."

The bartender laughed and nodded along, "Great!"

Connor gave him a thumbs up before downing the rest of his drink and standing up.

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Connor heard his voice before he saw him, "That's hard to do, isn't it? Crossing over from television to film?"

"Not for me, dude."

Laughter filled the room as Connor was acknowledged, "Oh, hey, Con. We got another player, If that's cool with you?"

Connor nodded stiffly as he stared at the players.

"Mr. Kleinman, what do you do for a living? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Why would I mind you asking?" Jared glared at the speaker, "Two cards."

There was a palpable silence, "If you must know, I just got out of prison."

Everyone froze, looking at each other. "Really?"

"Wait. Why were you in prison?"

Jared smirked. They were scared of him, "I stole some things. Nothing big."

"You stole things? Like, Jewels?"

Connor looked up, smirking at Jared, "More like Incan Matrimonial head masks."

"Any money in those? Incan Matrimonial--"

Jared interrupted, "Head masks? There was some. Not much, but enough."

Connor snorted, "Don't let him fool you. There's boatloads," Connor looked up at Jared, "if you can move 'em."

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Jared and Connor were on the road now, conversation dead.

"God, I'm bored," Connor complained, his hair blowing around his face.

"You look bored," Jared responded, joking manner returning.

"That's because I am bored!" Connor groaned, listening as Jared chuckled. "So, how was the clink? Did you get the cookies I sent?"

Jared stared at Connor, "Why do you think I came to see you first?"

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"So, tell me," Connor urged Jared on.

"It's tricky. It's never been done before. It's gonna need planning and a large crew."

Connor leaned forward, paying close attention, "Guns?"

"Not exactly. A lot of security, but the take--"

Connor smirked at Jared, "What's the target?"

Jared leaned forward, lowering his voice, "Eight figures each."

"What is the target?" Connor was getting impatient now, yearning to know the target.

"When was the last time you were in Vegas?" Jared asked, sipping his drink slowly.

"What? You want to knock over a casino?" Connor looked at Jared in bewilderment.

Jared burst into light chuckles, putting his drink down. He shook his head, slowly holding up three fingers.

"Oh, no, no," Connor shook his head, laughing alongside Jared.